


Tender Is The Night

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-07-15
Updated: 2000-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Tender Is The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Tender Is The Night by Lonestar

TITLE: Tender Is The Night  
AUTHOR: Lonestar  
GENRE: Angst, predominantly. Gets rather violent, so be forewarned.  
RATING: NC-17, for m/m slash.  
SPOILERS: None  
ARCHIVE: MKFC, RatB, DitB ... anywhere else, just let me know.  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, but I'm happy enough for a chance to have a little fun with them.  
NOTES: The sequence of events before this follows canon, and this is basically set after all the events Mulder and Krycek have been through together. Now Krycek has taken up hustling in Miami, and Mulder goes to find him. As always, I prefer writing Ratboy with both arms intact.  
Thanks to Phyre and Alex, the best betas ever, who took the time to help me polish up this story as well as gave me priceless encouragement. This is my first attempt at writing slash, and they've guided me through the first-time jitters wonderfully. Thank you both so much.  
I'd like to say word of thanks to Paula as well, for being so long-suffering and helping me out with the vids *wink*  
FEEDBACK: This being my debut story, I'd really like to know what you all thought of it. Please direct all comments, constructive or deconstructive, to <> .

* * *

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TENDER IS THE NIGHT

Mulder leaned back in the front seat, shrouded in the darkness. His wrists rested on the steering wheel, and his unwavering gaze missed nothing. The shadows fell obliquely across his rigid profile, slanting past the outline of his squared jaw. The hazy light from the street-lamp overhead glinted in his eyes as he focused on the nameless faces at the gaudy bar across the dim Miami street.

His eyes narrowed as they locked onto his target. The familiar face that stood out from the restless crowd, that he saw in his turbulent dreams every night. The casual smile that charmed him down the reckless path of destructive passion. The knowing eyes that seduced him and led to his undoing.

Somehow, he had survived the cataclysm. But he would never forget Alex.

And tonight, he was going to make sure that Alex remembered him forever as well. Tonight, he would make Alex cry out his name, crave for release, beg for mercy... and come back once again, yearning for more.

A sardonic smile spread across Mulder's impassive features as he watched a tall, good-looking man approach Krycek and offer a handshake by way of introduction. Mulder recognized the coyness in Krycek's response, the teasing smile and flirtatious gaze as he clasped the man's extended hand meaningfully. Oh yes, Alex. You are such a fucking slut.

Mulder settled back and observed as Krycek and his new acquaintance made their way to the bar counter for a drink, or maybe two. It didn't matter. He would wait. He smiled again as he saw Krycek suggestively trail his finger up and down his new friend's bicep.

Alex was always worth waiting for.

\+ + + + +

Krycek smiled coquettishly at his partner, bashfully looking up at him through lowered lashes. He dutifully followed the standard etiquette as they exchanged farcical pleasantries, and engaged in the superficial banter that both parties knew would quickly culminate in the inevitable proposition.

Krycek heard the baritone of the man's voice but didn't listen to his words. Still, he knew when to begin restlessly darting his eyes around the bar to expedite the transaction. His potential client recognized his distraction and quickly suggested in a low voice that they go someplace more private to continue their interaction.

A brief negotiation resulted in a gratuity above the market value, and Krycek left the bar on the man's arm, satisfied with the night's soliciting. A decent enough guy, a premium price and a free drink. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

The man took him to a budget motel a few blocks away from the bar. Krycek cast a casual look around as he entered the motel lobby. At least it was an acceptably modest place to fuck. The conversation ebbed as they both prepared for the non-verbal communication to ensue.

He was used to it. Every night, sleeping on a different pillow. Although there were certain nights that sleep and pillows proved to be too much of a luxury to have. He was pretty enough for a hustler, but on nights when the takings were lean, he couldn't afford to be too choosy. He'd settled for the men's room or the hard cold floor of a nearby warehouse on several occasions before.

Of course, there were times when his customers got a little aggressive and demanded more than what they paid for. Sometimes he managed to get away before things got ugly. Other times he didn't. It was just another occupational hazard he had to live with.

Maybe tonight he wouldn't have to hurt. Krycek stepped into the motel room and quickly surveyed his new surroundings. The room was relatively large, with an attached bathroom, a queen-sized bed and quite a bit of space left to move around.

Maybe tonight wouldn't involve any pain. Krycek watched carefully as the man closed the door, locked it and began removing his own shirt as he came toward him.

But he wouldn't count on it.

\+ + + + +

He'd come this far.

Mulder's watchful gaze followed the two retreating figures as they rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

The dull pulse that had driven him over a thousand miles in less than one day echoed in his ears, and a rush of adrenaline fed itself into his veins. Another deliberate roll of the loaded dice had once again brought them together, woven another thread in their inextricable entanglement.

He revved the engine and cruised smoothly along the dim street, slowing to a halt as the neon lights of the motel came into view. Killing the engine, he slid back in his seat and waited. Solitary nights had taught him patience, trained him to smother the twinge of excitement that ebbed and flowed inside him.

Estimation told him that at least five minutes had passed. Finally, he removed the key from the ignition and stepped out of the car, the humid night's moisture clinging to his skin. His stealthy footfalls trailed their way across the street and into the motel lobby.

An overwhelming sense of dejà vu descended upon Mulder as he walked down the corridor of the cheap motel. The scenario dredged up memories of their countless trysts together in the past, and rekindled the allure of forbidden sex and secret sin.

One more time, Alex. For old times' sake.

\+ + + + +

The two bodies moved on the bed, oblivious as the key turned in the well-oiled lock, giving way to the silent intrusion. The pale light from the crescent moon dimly illuminated the silhouette of their forms, and the crisp rustle of the sheets drowned Mulder's footsteps as he padded toward the bed and watched wordlessly.

Alex, my perfect slut. It looks like the two of you seem to have gotten down to business rather quickly. Well, I'll kill the bastard if he trespassed further than what I paid him to do. Finally, Mulder spoke in the half-darkness. "That's enough, I'll take it from here." Clear out, buddy, Alex is mine now. All mine.

The man stopped moving above him, and Krycek's skin prickled as he instantly recognized Mulder's voice. The voice that had huskily invoked his name in ecstasy so many times before, the same voice that now called him once more.

"Good to see you again, Alex." Mulder said calmly. The man hastily disengaged himself from Krycek, gathered his clothes and took his leave, muttering his thanks for the generous fee for this simple entrapment. The door closed behind him with a lingering finality.

"Yes, Mulder, it's been a while." Krycek rallied well, arrogance returning to his voice, masking his fear almost flawlessly. He propped himself up on his elbows and reclined back on the bed, striking a wanton pose. "You've missed me, I see."

Mulder sneered wordlessly. Miss you? Want you? Do you think it's so simple, Alex, that you can trivialize the essence of our relationship into these shallow cliches? These exploited words, which people burden with unfelt meaning and proclaim with earnest insincerity? Traverse beneath the surface, Alex, and I'll show you, make you feel the indefinable.

"Get up." Mulder ordered, his tone menacing as he strode closer to the bed.

"You don't have to tear my clothes off this time, Mulder. Maybe it's too dark for you to see, but I'm already not wearing very much." Krycek's voice carried a hint of sarcasm.

"On the contrary, Alex. Get dressed." Mulder spoke evenly.

"What?"

"You didn't hear me clearly the first time?"

"Where are we going?" Krycek asked warily, remaining on the bed.

Mulder suddenly bent forward, grabbed Krycek by the shoulders and hurled him to the floor. Krycek's body crashed onto the hardwood panels, toppling the coffee table and shattering an ashtray. He lay on the floor, dazed and disoriented for a moment.

Mulder stalked closer. Krycek wasn't wearing a shirt to facilitate being pulled up by the collar, so Mulder snatched a handful of his hair and dragged him up to eye level. "Are you gonna listen to me now, or do I have to beat you to a bloody pulp before you do what I tell you?" Mulder contemptuously flung Krycek down once again, sending his body crumpling to the floor.

Krycek gingerly turned himself on his back and flexed his left wrist, the one he used to break his fall. He glared up at Mulder resentfully and slowly got to his feet. Carefully making his way amidst the glass shards of the splintered ashtray, Krycek picked up his jeans and slipped them on. He shrugged on his shirt, not even bothering to do up all the buttons. He finally turned to face Mulder. "Now what?"

"Now take your clothes off."

Krycek gave him a strange look. "Make up your mind, Mulder. I just put them on."

"I know. I want to see you do a striptease, like the fucking bitch you are."

"You are one sick fuck." Krycek sounded disgusted.

"You haven't seen anything yet, Alex."

Krycek involuntarily cringed at the harshness of Mulder's voice. Why are you doing this, Mulder? he asked silently. Why do you always humiliate me like this, and make me feel how inferior I actually am? Just take what you came for, Mulder, and get this over with. Please.

He stared at Mulder, an intense ambiguous emotion in his green eyes burning through the darkness. I wish you would stop doing this, Mulder, this hopeless power struggle where you know that you are solely in control. Each time you hurt me, you inflict equal pain on yourself as well. Both of us know it -- you just refuse to admit it.

Mulder saw Krycek recoil, and relished the efficacy of his threat. Go on, Alex, show me your stripping routine. Show me how you sell yourself each night, how you prostitute the body that should belong to no one except me. I want to see if you still undress in that same provocative manner you seduced me with on the first night we made love.

Yes, Alex, that's what it was the first time we were together. We made love, and I'll never forget that pure, fragile pleasure, something that we will never experience again. But the emotion that now rages transcends the spectrum of identifiable feelings, and it isn't love or hate, lust or revenge. It is a raw, forsaken emotion that no one dared to name, which has been locked away in the depths of my soul, which bursts forth and consumes my entire consciousness each time I'm in the same room as you.

Krycek saw the flicker of anguish cross Mulder's features, and understood it perfectly. It is beyond your control, an unquenchable obsession, an insatiable addiction that keeps urging you back, despite the torment you feel each time you see me. I know the pain living in your eyes, because I see the same agony when I look into the mirror.

With a defeated sigh, Krycek obliged, and began undoing the loosely fastened buttons of his shirt. He kept his eyes fixed on Mulder's, pleading silently. I think I can handle the physical aspect of what you demand of me, but the mind games are more than I can take, and I can't find a way out of this. Don't confuse me further, Mulder; don't fling the key so deep into both our souls that it's lost forever.

Mulder watched as Krycek's jeans fell around his ankles. Nothing in Krycek's style had changed. He still moved with the same elegant grace, in the same demure way, as he slid his underwear down his legs and tossed it aside on the floor. What has changed, then? What accounts for this unbridgeable chasm that exists between us, or the way we throw caution to the wind and plunge into the abysmal darkness, looking for answers we already know?

Krycek moved lithely toward the edge of the bed, his emerald eyes watching Mulder unswervingly. He said nothing. They both stood a respectable distance apart, wordlessly looking at each other. It was just for a spark of a moment, fossilized in time, and with a blink of an eye the stillness vanished.

Mulder approached Krycek slowly, pacing his steps until there were barely inches between them. Krycek stood his ground and didn't back away as Mulder's hands lifted to touch his body. At the burning contact of Krycek's glazed skin against his, a sudden explosion of unbridled passion was unleashed, and Mulder pushed Krycek back onto the bed. His hands resolutely pinned Krycek's arms down, wedging him under his weight. Mulder's mouth closed over Krycek's for a surprisingly brief moment before swiftly diverting, trailing along his cheek and down his neck.

Krycek tilted his head back as Mulder's teeth tested the soft flesh on the nape of his neck. He felt a jolt of pain in his heart that he couldn't ignore. Why didn't you kiss me, Mulder? I know you wanted to, and felt your hesitation before you hurriedly moved away from my lips. You're afraid that kissing me would sway your dominance and show weakness.

If you didn't care what I thought, why don't you go ahead and force your mouth onto mine, just like what you're doing to my body? Are you afraid that your kiss would be unrequited? The truth is that more badly than anything else, I want you to hold me and kiss me and tell me that you still yearn for me. I know you still do, but I want you to say it, to hear it from your own lips, because it hurts when you knowingly shun my need, and yours as well.

Mulder continued to run his tongue down Krycek's chest, teasing his nipples and drawing a gasp of pleasure from Krycek. He felt Krycek shift under him, his hardening erection pressing against Mulder's still fully-clothed body. Mulder smiled at the encouraging response, his lips still brushing Krycek's chest. If only things could be so simple, Alex, where we could leap into bed and I could just fuck the daylights out of you then call it quits.

Mulder paused momentarily as he felt Krycek's legs part slightly. His own thigh came into contact with Krycek's hard cock, although insulated by a layer of clothing. A flare of anger rose inside Mulder as Krycek began slowly rubbing his naked crotch against Mulder's leg. You are such a fucking slut, Alex. Do you think you can get away so easily this time? Just by rubbing up against me and letting me fuck you? It may work with all of your lowlife scum customers, but not with me. Not a chance.

Abruptly, Mulder pulled away and seized Krycek by the shoulders, brusquely forcing him to turn face-down on the bed. He moved on top of Krycek, straddling his waist to prevent him from shifting. Krycek seemed taken aback by this sudden change of position, but didn't resist.

Leaning over, Mulder opened the drawer of the bedside table and retrieved a length of rope that he had placed there earlier that day. Snatching up Krycek's right hand, he entwined one loose end of rope around his wrist and secured it to the bedpost. Nimbly looping the rope around to the other side of the bed, Mulder tied Krycek's other wrist to the left bedpost. With a sharp jerk, Mulder fastened the rope in a tight knot, immobilizing him on the bed.

Mulder placed his palm at the base of Krycek's neck, and ran his hand down the length of his back. He pressed his hand hard against Krycek's moist flesh, a far-removed but not forgotten memory flashing in his mind. Closing his eyes, Mulder clung to the shred of remembrance, and recalled the gentleness and love that used to accompany his touch. He gritted his teeth and tried to grind out the smouldering remains in his mind which cried out plaintively, weakening his resolve.

"Can we do without the ropes, please Mulder?" Krycek asked quietly, his voice smothered by the covers.

"No," Mulder retorted fiercely. No, because I can't bear to watch your face as I fuck you, don't want to see the emotion that flares in your eyes as I bury myself inside you. You may not think so, Alex, but it's hard enough for me to grapple with the guilt, to put up this callused facade.

Mulder got off the bed and began undressing. Leaving his clothes in a heap amidst Krycek's, he knelt at the edge of the bed. He pushed Krycek's ankles slightly apart and moved forward. Spreading the cheeks of his taut ass with his hands, Mulder leaned closer.

Krycek felt the insistent pressure of his tongue against the crack of his ass. The heat of Mulder's mouth sent shivers through Krycek's body, eliciting a soft moan from him as the wet tongue slid into his tight asshole. He could feel the rough stubble on Mulder's upper lip abrade against the crease of his ass, the tingling sensation relieving the tenseness in his body, relaxing his muscles. Oh yes, Mulder. Don't stop. This feels too good.

Mulder skilfully ran his tongue over Krycek's balls, leisurely swirling circles around them. The light deftness of his tongue made Krycek shudder uncontrollably, wracked with pleasure, his own hard cock trapped painfully beneath him. Mulder's tongue flirted unabashedly for awhile longer, then slowly traced its path back to Krycek's asshole, teasingly urging it to open. The slackened sphincter readily dilated, allowing Mulder's questing tongue to penetrate.

Krycek couldn't suppress a gasp as Mulder's tongue slipped inside his body. Is this a compensation for what you're about to do to me, Mulder? A consolation, by preceding pain with pleasure? He could feel Mulder's tongue sliding in and out of him, the smooth, controlled movement holding him at the verge of ecstasy. I know that I'm supposed to cherish this moment, appreciate the tenderness with which your tongue is fucking me now. I will imagine this mild sensation when you ram your cock hard into my ass, and remember that you are capable of such gentleness.

Mulder lodged his tongue as far into Krycek's ass as he could, lubricating the inner surfaces. He could feel Krycek writhing in desire, the twitch of his body silently begging for more. You don't know what you're asking for, Alex. You crave pleasure, but what I have to offer is only pain, both yours and mine.

Krycek closed his eyes as the warm, wet tongue withdrew, and felt the heat of Mulder's skin against his back as he climbed on top of him. He knew what was to come, and that his moment of enjoyment was over.

"Before you fuck me, Mulder, there's a condom in the back pocket of my jeans."

Mulder lowered his body onto Krycek's, his breath heavy in Krycek's left ear. He laughed low in his throat. "You're a careful little whore, aren't you, Alex?" Sweat sluiced off his body onto Krycek's, soaking the bedsheet beneath them. "Do you always insist that your clients use condoms?" Mulder asked, his tone almost casual.

"Yes," came Krycek's muffled reply. Yes, because that's how I salvage my last shred of dignity, enough to face myself in the mirror each morning after. How I justify that I haven't been completely taken, how I defend that pathetic trace of fading integrity.

Mulder let out a dry laugh. "Well, since you're so clean" -- he emphasized the last word sarcastically -- "I see no reason to use protection." I want you to feel the uninsulated intensity bleed your innocence, Alex. I need to take a part of you, and set myself free.

Mulder's response was what Krycek had anticipated. Do you think that by fucking me like this, you will finally be able to free yourself? There's no way out, Mulder. We twist and turn where fallen angels burn, but the flames of hell cannot sever the bond that forces us to collide. Each time you push me to the limit, you fall over the edge.

We will part, and heal, then scorch ourselves all over again. That is our punishment.

Do you think I like it, Mulder? Do you honestly think that I enjoy being touched and handled by every horny son of a bitch who wants a piece of me? But they just fuck me and leave my mind alone. You will be satisfied only when you've taken my mind, body and soul. They just use my body, Mulder, but you abuse me in a way that I've never known. You make sure I know that you hold the reins, that I'm at your mercy.

Worst of all, you ignore the reflection of your need in my eyes. You reveal your pain but you don't see that it mirrors exactly what I feel in my own soul. Maybe you just want to believe that you're the only one who's suffering, but each time we meet I feel myself breaking apart, little by little. I can't carry on like this for very much longer, Mulder. Each time, you rape my mind and take what isn't yours, what I would've willingly surrendered had you so much as asked me to.

Krycek said nothing. Instead, he simply spread his legs slightly and waited for the unavoidable. Oddly, he didn't feel a sense of utter loathing, the familiar feeling that he experienced every night whenever a stranger's cock pushed itself into him. At least tonight he was being fucked by someone who came this far just to find him, who once cared for him, and maybe still did.

Please, Mulder, tell me what it is you want, what you keep coming back for. The exquisite sensation each time you passionately fuck me is more than enough to sustain my need, but is it enough to satisfy you? This means so much more to me than just emotionless sex, but I still can't give you what you need, because I don't know what you're looking for.

As Mulder buried his cock deep into Krycek's ass, shoving himself as far inside him as he could, he distinctly heard a quiet, choked question escape from Krycek's lips. "What do you want from me, Mulder?"

Mulder closed his eyes. I want you so badly, Alex. I don't want you to allow anyone else to fuck you. I want you to belong exclusively to me, to share our lives as one and not merely exist as separate entities. That is why tonight, I need to taste what I could never have, and to punish you for walking away.

All I really want is for this moment to last forever.

Mulder didn't answer the question, but instead allowed his hands to steal over and caress Krycek's torso; the deliberate, tender movement almost lost in the roughness of Mulder's thrusts from below. He silently pressed his lips against Krycek's back, tasting the sweat, savoring the heat emanating from his pliant skin. I don't mean to hurt you, Alex. I just want back what you've taken from me. I just want to fall asleep alone and not feel lonely.

Krycek felt the softness of Mulder's lips brush against his back, in such stark contrast to the painful hardness of Mulder's cock up his ass. You don't have to say it, Mulder. I know what you're feeling, what you really want from me, what I can't give to you. Do you know that the last time I remembered ever enjoying sex, it was with you? Even though I'm repulsed by your domineering manner and horrified by my own willing submission, it feels good when you fuck me.

It feels good when you hold me down and force yourself into me, when you rhythmically ram your cock deep into my ass, when you explode in unadulterated passion inside my body, like you're doing now. The sensation is alternately painful and pleasurable, and this violent intimacy betrays what you deny but know is the truth. Your body tells me what your words refuse to, Mulder. The way your hands grip my waist, assertive yet protective. Your lips against my flesh, hurtful yet longing.

Mulder rested his body on top of Krycek's, desperately revelling in the materialization of his only fantasy as the pleasurable waves of orgasm subsided. Krycek's body lay still, his back rising and falling steadily to the rhythm of his breathing. A pang of sadness overwhelmed Mulder as he slowly slid off Krycek's body.

I'm sorry, Alex. I can't help it, your pain is the only way I can douse my misery. But I felt your reluctant submission, the way you subconsciously arched your back upwards to meet each searing thrust. I heard you whisper my name as I poured myself out inside you, a single syllable that left your lips on the wisp of a breath. That simple word in that broken tone, which I almost regret hearing, which confuses everything all over again inside my head and negates the vindication I'm supposed to feel.

Drops of tears moistened Krycek's lashes as they fluttered open. Is your desire satisfied, now that you have fucked me and taken what you will never get enough of? It was too consensual to be deemed as rape, and strangely enough I don't feel violated, like I do every other night after I've serviced my clients.

This time around it seemed so natural, the touch of your hand roaming over my body, the intrusion of your cock into my ass. It felt so right to feel your body taking, and mine receiving. But do you even care if I'm suffering now, bleeding inside? I can see your rueful smile, and I know that you think our situation is beyond redemption. Maybe if we spoke more and fought less, we might find that there is still hope left for us.

Mulder swung his legs over the side of the bed, turning away from Krycek. Do you know what's tearing me up inside, Alex? The knowledge that possibly, our deliverance lies in each other, and that if we try, we might just be able to alleviate the pain afflicting both of us. But I can't bring myself to believe that this is the only way out, and each time I hurt you, I feel a chance inside me die. A desolate bleakness, which suffocates me and instigates me to punish you even more for making me lose my faith.

Mulder got off the bed and began rummaging through the mess of clothes strewn on the floor. Finding his pants, he put them on, his feet getting caught in the cuffs. He picked up his shirt and slipped it onto his shoulders, but didn't button it up. Mulder didn't say anything throughout, the only sound in the room being the rustle of fabric as he put on his clothes.

Krycek broke the silence. "I'm thirsty, Mulder." He wearily turned his head to face Mulder. His voice sounded tired. "Can I have some water?"

Mulder looked around the room but didn't see a jug of water or any glasses. Lousy cheapskate motel, he swore inwardly, making an irritated noise as he got up from the bed and headed toward the bathroom. Turning on the tap, he cupped his hand under the faucet and collected some of the gushing water, the cool liquid against his skin a refreshing change from the heated touch of Krycek's body.

Turning off the tap and going back to the bedside, Mulder held out his cupped palm for Krycek to drink from. Krycek shifted uncomfortably, still shackled to the bed as he lifted his head and brought his lips to Mulder's hand. Krycek eagerly lapped at the water, drinking up the tepid fluid and relieving the tightness in his throat.

Mulder watched as Krycek thirstily drank the meagre water pooled in his palm, most of it already wastefully seeping through his fingers and dripping onto the sheets below. It was such a simple, innocent gesture, yet so poignant. Krycek looked so fragile, so vulnerable. He felt the hot velvet of Krycek's tongue darting out, licking his hand. Mulder closed his eyes and bled inside with silent pain as Krycek licked all the water dry and kissed Mulder's palm tenderly, his lips gently moving over Mulder's curved fingers.

I don't want you to leave, Alex, but I know you will. Mulder moved his hand away from Krycek's mouth, running his moistened fingers through Krycek's hair, smoothing it back. I don't want you to walk out of that door and just dismiss this night as another meaningless encounter, because it's so much more than that. I want to touch you so deeply that it grates your very soul, but I don't know how. I felt a sharp jolt of pain sear through me when I fucked you just now, as our bodies converged, the same ache that haunts me each time I think of you. I can't save myself, but I won't let you forget me.

With renewed determination, Mulder leaned over and reached his hand into the drawer once again. Krycek's eyes widened with growing alarm as he saw the slender whip slither out of its place in the drawer. He gulped back his fear as Mulder stroked his palm down the length of the whip in a smooth, silky movement. Panic was thinly veiled in Krycek's trembling voice. "Mulder, please..."

Mulder quickly moved down on his knees by the side of the bed, and placed a finger over Krycek's parted lips, hushing him, an unusual gentleness in his manner. "Shhh, Alex," Mulder whispered very softly, as his other hand moved to tilt Krycek's chin slightly upward. His fingers ran themselves through Krycek's tousled hair, brushing the stray strands of fringe out of his fearful eyes.

Mulder looked deeply into Krycek's eyes, seeing the terror that Krycek couldn't hide. I'm sorry, Alex, Mulder's eyes communicating what he couldn't bring himself to articulate. This is what I have to do, to make you understand, to brand you as eternally mine. The scars will eventually fade, but the memory of this will remain, and always remind you of the unhealing wounds I carry which penetrate far deeper than mere flesh and blood.

"Not this... please... Mulder." Krycek's voice was frantic, desperate to avert the torture which he saw coming. Will the shedding of my blood quench your pain, Mulder? Because if that's all that is required to liberate us, then I'm willing to give what it takes. But I know it still won't be enough for you, and no matter how many times you fuck me, beat me or whip me, you'll still come back again, hungering for more.

And I know that deep inside, something in me yearns to be with you, regardless of how much pain I have to suffer, how much agony I have to endure. A part of me that only feels complete when I'm with you, and relinquishes the emptiness just for that little while. There's something in your eyes, in the desperation of your touch, that tells me you still need me as much as I need you.

Mulder leaned closer, until the tip of his nose brushed against Krycek's. "Don't be afraid, Alex," Mulder whispered, his voice barely audible, only his lips moving. "Close your eyes, think of me, remember our first night together, and it won't hurt so much."

"I'm scared, Mulder," Krycek whispered back, his voice breaking.

"It's okay, Alex, just close your eyes..." Mulder's voice was quiet and soothing. The intimacy between them and the tenderness in Mulder's voice almost made up for any torture that was to come. Krycek closed his eyes and tried to grasp the intangible moment, so it could sustain him through the endless nights of emptiness to come, and give him strength to carry on.

Mulder smiled pensively as he watched Krycek calm down, and felt him nestle his cheek against Mulder's open palm. I know you're scared, Alex. I'm scared as well, because I don't know how brutal I might be when the burning pain in me takes over completely. I'm afraid that this cruelty might mean nothing when it's over, that we might never be able to tear free. Deep down inside, I know that your blood won't dissolve my pain, but I don't know what else to do.

Mulder straightened and got to his feet once more, the whip clutched in his right hand. With one fluid stroke Mulder raised his arm and brought the whip down onto Krycek's exposed back. Krycek's body jerked in response as the switch split his skin and mercilessly sliced through his flesh. A stifled moan escaped his chapped lips, and he arched his back as the sting of the whip diffused through his body.

The whip ruthlessly assailed Krycek's prone body, leaving a bloody network of angry red welts streaked across his back. Krycek's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists and dug his fingernails into the mattress. His muscles tensed with each stroke and strained against the ropes that tied him down, chafing his wrists raw.

Specks of blood flew off the imbrued whip as it cracked across Krycek's torn flesh, sprinkling the white bedsheets with drops of crimson. Krycek's body twitched as the whip lashed down onto his ass, and he gritted his teeth as he stoically bore the assault. Each wave of pain gradually dulled as the flogging numbed his senses. The room became a shifting blur, and Krycek's grasp on his consciousness began to slip.

Finally, the whipping abated. Krycek squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the next blow, which never came. The pain receded, and coherent thought once again surfaced. Is it over now, Mulder? Because I don't think I can take much more of this, but every living, breathing moment up till now, I've given you everything I can possibly give. I know I'm bleeding quite badly now. I can feel my own blood trickling down my skin, and it fucking hurts. Oh god it fucking hurts.

But amidst my own pain, Mulder, somehow I sense your suffering. The way you gingerly touch my wounds and feel my blood between your fingers, in that same unfamiliar gentle manner. Your horrified silence now as you stare at me, at what you've done.

The pain peaked again, drowning his thoughts. Krycek was barely aware as Mulder took out a knife from the bedside drawer and severed the ropes, freeing his hands from their restraints. Krycek could hardly move, his body almost paralyzed by the whipping. He flexed his wrists slightly, trying to get the feeling back into his hands, but still lay sprawled across the bed, making no attempt to get up.

Why do you bother granting me this meaningless freedom, Mulder? You may have cut the ropes, and I may be free to leave, but I'm still eternally chained to you. We've both bled and suffered in vain, and nothing's changed. You know it, just as I do.

The silence in the room was displaced only by Krycek's sporadic breathing. Mulder moved back to the bed and gathered Krycek's quivering body into his arms, his own hands glossed with blood. He ran his fingers through Krycek's matted hair, holding his head firmly, his arms tightly encircled around Krycek's limp body. Oh Alex. I wish I could lie and say that I love to hurt you, but the truth is it hurts more to love you. I would sacrifice my happiness just so that I could win, but in the final reckoning, I know that we've both lost, just to different degrees. I'm sorry, Alex. You know that I am, even though I don't say it.

Mulder gently cradled Krycek's head with one hand and caressed his cheek with the other, smearing it with Krycek's own blood. Mulder tenderly kissed his stain-smudged face, tasting the bitter saltiness with his tongue, swallowing Krycek's silent tears. Mulder's lips moved to Krycek's mouth and kissed it hard, closing his own eyes as he felt Krycek's cold lips slowly respond to his ravishing.

Krycek swallowed hard as he felt Mulder's tongue push against his. Is this the way you have to win, Mulder? You've humiliated me, fucked me, and beaten me. But just when I thought I was already devoid of feeling, too numbed to feel any more pain, you kiss me.

Why do you have to complicate things further, Mulder? The truth is that when you kiss me, it hurts more than anything else you've done to me, simply because I don't know what you intend it to mean. Am I supposed to cynically dismiss it as a sneering mockery, or wistfully hope that you're trying to tell me something in an unspoken language that only I understand?

Mulder explored the warmth inside Krycek's mouth with his tongue, knowing it was probably the last domain of his body that hadn't been exploited by a stranger's kiss. Men engage hustlers like you, Alex, to evade romantic foreplay and cut to the chase, not many would bother with any activity that didn't directly stimulate their cock. They'd make you suck them off, but they wouldn't care to kiss you.

I want to give you a tender memory of this night, Alex, something that would shine through the blistering haze and linger in your mind for many nights to come, so that you won't forget me. Something to make up for my not being there, to diminish the cold absence of love in each of your distant encounters with someone else. Something to ease your pain and help you heal.

Krycek closed his eyes and choked back his tears as his own mouth opened against Mulder's, accepting the silent apology. Why does it always have to end this way, with you kissing me, reminding me that you actually need so much more of me? You've taken my body, conquered my mind and ravaged my soul. But even before all that, I was already yours. All yours.

Mulder slowly pulled away, reluctantly breaking the liplock. Krycek couldn't even stand properly on his own, weakened by loss of blood and the pain of the torture. Mulder's strong hands held Krycek's shoulders, supporting him upright. He looked at Krycek's ashen face, noticing how his flushed lips stood out against the paleness. "Alex..."

Krycek slowly raised his right arm, his hand shaking slightly, his wrists still braceleted by the ropes. His fingers rose to touch Mulder's cheek, a feathery caress, then stole over and brushed up against Mulder's parted lips. Don't say it, Mulder. Don't say you're sorry. Don't say that you wouldn't have done it if you could rewind time, because I know you still would have, the same way I know how sorry you are now.

A soft, unintelligible sound escaped Mulder as he felt the softness of Krycek's fingers touching his dry lips. Don't look at me like this, Alex, don't accept all that I've done to you as if you deserved every stroke of it, because you don't. I feel so confused now, but the only thing that I see clearly is forsaken love and fervent tenderness in your eyes. And I hate it, because I can't even love myself. Show that you hate me for what I've done to you, Alex, and just glare back at me, so I can walk away and convince myself that I'm the only one left who has to move on.

Krycek made no attempt to move, so Mulder finally stepped back and turned away. Krycek swayed unsteadily, and edged over to brace himself against the wall for support. He suddenly felt faint, the lingering pain and lack of blood circulation clouding his vision. But although his body was in trauma from the ordeal, his mind was still alert.

Mulder picked up his grey coat, avoiding Krycek's questioning eyes. From the corner of his eye he saw Krycek's unsteady posture, and suddenly he couldn't bear to be in the same room as Alex, to see the bad shape he was in, the twisted work of his own hands. He headed towards the front door, buttoning up his shirt as he went, not looking back.

"Mulder." Krycek called quietly, wincing as he leaned against the wall, his left hand gripping the back of a chair to balance himself.

Slowly, reluctantly, Mulder turned around, his gaze immediately locking with Krycek's sad green eyes. He held Krycek's look wordlessly.

"Will you be coming back?" Krycek's voice was soft, his expression forlorn.

Mulder shook his head ever so slightly. "Not tonight, Alex."

Krycek averted his eyes, his countenance downcast. He said nothing. Mulder turned to leave, but suddenly he impulsively spun around and strode back to Krycek. He dropped his coat on the floor and moved very close, nudging Krycek up against the wall. Holding Krycek's face in both his hands, Mulder leaned forward and kissed him on the lips with a ferocity and desperation that he only just discovered.

Krycek closed his eyes, yielding to Mulder's mouth, kissing him back. This was the moment that he had been waiting for, that he had endured through his suffering to savor. I want nothing more than to feel you reciprocate, and I feel it right now, in this kiss, so much more primal and honest than anything we've ever shared.

I know this kiss will end, and you will turn and walk away. But no matter where you go after you leave me here in this motel room, a part of me goes with you, and it patiently awaits the time where it brings you back to me and it can reunite with the rest of my soul once again.

Finally, after a fleeting eternity, Mulder pulled away, and looked deep into Krycek's emerald eyes as his lashes fluttered open. There was something so melancholic in your voice, Alex, that touched me more deeply than you could ever know, that made me falter and look back. The many nights from now I will regret having given you a glimpse of my true feelings, but the unspoken plea in your voice made me realize that perhaps we both languish in the same despair, and are tormented by the same wistful dreams stung with cruel reality.

Mulder bent to pick up his coat, but as if on an afterthought, he decided to leave it where it lay. Straightening, he turned away, shunning Krycek with his back, and slowly walked towards the door again. Each step consumed an enormous amount of effort as Mulder forced himself forward, tearing himself away from where he knew he belonged.

Krycek watched Mulder walk away, his body resting back against the wall, smearing the peeling layer of paint with bloodstains. He stared at Mulder's retreating figure, a look of acceptance finally settling over his clouded eyes. I know that you would be the first to leave, to move on. But I also know that you will come back, one night an immeasurable stride of time from now, and I will see you again.

Mulder cast one last glance back at Krycek, a succinct but longing gaze. Their eyes held for a moment, communicating the unspeakable, sharing the inexpressible, clinging to this last fragment of intimacy. Then the door softly clicked shut, separating them and marking the start of their mutual isolation.

Mulder released the doorknob and slumped back against the closed door. Drowning the urge to turn back, Mulder unsteadily made his way down the dimly lit corridor, shuffling his feet along the dirty faded carpet leading him out of the motel. Halting on the front steps of the lobby, Mulder paused and turned his head slightly in the direction he just came from, swallowing the bitterness that washed over him.

Goodbye, Alex. Until the next time.

\+ + + + +

Mulder sat in his car, hidden in the shadows. He hated the stillness all around him, a stark reminder of the remoteness which would pervade the lonesome times ahead. He was sated, yet still hungry; fulfilled, yet craving for more. Each of these emotional hangovers would incite him to vehemently swear off Alex forever. But as the days waned and the nights crawled by, the same irrepressible desire in him would awaken, captivate his consciousness and urge him to find the only one who could grant him release.

I wish I could stay by your side, Alex, but I know that is not possible. Or perhaps it's not that impossible, but maybe I'm too scared to find out. Mulder looked at his hands, still tainted with dried traces of Krycek's blood. Maybe one day, Alex, I will find the courage to tell you what I've always wanted to say, and stop hiding my feelings behind senseless violence.

Mulder squinted across the street and saw Krycek emerging from the front lobby of the motel. He was wearing Mulder's grey coat, an attempt to conceal his wounds and hide his pain. He bundled it tightly around himself, as if trying to shield out the cold and loneliness that surrounded him. He stood by the sidewalk, flagged down a taxi as it passed by, and got into the cab. Mulder had slipped some cash into Krycek's jeans pocket while he wasn't looking, enough to get his wounds treated and tide him over the next few days.

As Krycek's cab turned the corner and disappeared from sight, Mulder turned the key in the ignition and fired the sluggish engine to life. He wound down the window, the heat of the evening having simmered down, allowing the cool night breeze to air the car and his mind. He drove his car along the darkened streets, headed in the opposite direction, driving aimlessly, not sure of where he was going next.

Mulder looked up in the clear night sky, and immediately noticed a particular star, a luminous fire, blazing more brightly than the rest, the same star he saw from his hotel room in Washington two nights earlier.

No matter where you go, or how far away you are, some things never change.

Pondering for a moment, Mulder turned his attention back to the empty road ahead of him, snaking endlessly into the horizon. This path would trail thousands of miles across the country, but Mulder knew that it would finally take him to his eventual destination, and lead him back to Alex once again.

  
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End file.
